


Remedy

by kurgaya



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blank Period, Chronic Pain, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Fourth Shinobi War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 16:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17811260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: The mug that Kakashi raises to his mouth reads ‘I DO WHAT I WANT’. Gai wants to laugh, he really, really wants to, but sudden movements and damaged nerves aren’t a happily married couple like he and Kakashi are. He settles for sucking in his bottom lip and fighting back the laughter until tears gather in his eyes.[Post-Fourth Shinobi War. The beginning of something new and coping with something old].





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe I set out to write _fluff_? What am I doing, honestly. Halfway through I figured I might as well commit myself to the angst lol
> 
> (This is not a Neji fix-it btw).

Gai doesn’t want to admit it, but he would very much like to go home. They’ve been coped up in the Hokage’s office for almost two hours now – him, Kakashi, and the two Main Branch representations of the Hyūga Clan – and Gai’s leg is throbbing. Three hours ago, he was delighted to take part in this meeting. It’s been a long time coming. Prying apart one of Konoha’s oldest, most guarded (ridiculous, most barbaric) traditions has been on Kakashi’s to-do list since Lady Tsunade first mentioned the possibility of succeeding her, and it’s a relief for those long, sleepless nights of preparation bear fruit. There are many, many people in the Hyūga Clan and the village who will need convincing to scrap the Caged Bird seal: preventing a fallout is a delicate operation (preventing animosity and anger in _another_ great clan) and Kakashi has his work cut out for him. That’s not to say he’ll be working alone – no, Gai certainly won’t allow it, that’s why he’s here, and not to mention there’s Hinata and Team Eight, her friends and family, and the remainder of Team Gai.

Neji should be here for this. But the war –

Gai’s here instead. And that will have to mean something.

Right _now_ it means he’s in pain, exhausted, and struggling to focus on the debate. Kakashi can be very convincing even without a sharingan, but the Noble Clans of Konoha are… of a particularly kind of company. Traditions even as backwards as the Caged Bird are needs must, in their eyes. Change will be slow, like a storm rolling in. Kakashi is equal measures eager and terrified, but then he always has been in the face of a storm.

Gai is eager too. Or, he was before the meeting, and now his leg has decided that it’s had _quite enough_. Chakra pathways are fickle things. Nerves are even worse. Gai thought he had perfect control of his body, that he was in-tune with it inside and out, but ever since waking to an onslaught of pain after opening his Eighth Gate and the pain just _never leaving_ , he isn’t so sure.

He hurts – all of the time. In the year that has passed since regaining consciousness in the hospital, there hasn’t been a _single_ , waking moment without pain. Gai finds himself tiring so easily now. That it’s mid-winter certainly doesn’t help; he misses long days of summer and the high afternoon sun. Although, at least when it’s cold he has an excuse to carry a hot water bottle around with him wherever he goes. It’s sitting on his lap right now, hidden by the blanket. It finished giving off heat over an hour ago and now it’s a floppy pad of plastic in his hands. He would like to go and reheat it, but that would require interrupting the meeting and drawing attention to himself. Kakashi has enough on his plate at any given moment. So, the best thing Gai can do is wait – and if there’s _anything_ he has learned over the past year, it’s how to pretend he’s not in pain and _wait_.

“Maa, could you give us a moment?”

Gai snaps back into the conversation, feeling the attention shift towards him. There is little the Hyūgas can do to deny Kakashi’s request – he _is_ their Hokage, even if they’re all still accustoming themselves to it. _Of course_ , they mutter, shifting away from the desk to create the illusion of privacy. They begin to converse in low tones, but Gai doesn’t listen. He blinks over at Kakashi and realises he’s been caught day-dreaming, the tips of his ears burning red. It doesn’t seem like Kakashi is about to kick him out though: Kakashi’s gaze softens from Hokage to husband (and it’s still so, _so_ strange to see two brown eyes), and he sets a hand down on Gai’s knee, hidden by the table but never from a Hyūga’s view. It’s not Gai’s bad knee, thankfully, but his entire body is taut with the waves of pain from his leg and it’s still too much. He twitches away, teeth clenched tight. The wheelchair squeaks in protest and Kakashi lifts his hand away.

“Do you need –”

“No,” Gai interrupts, more sharply than intended. They both wince; Gai with guilt and Kakashi uncertainty. He hadn’t meant to be so brash. A moment of impasse rises between them like the bone-white chill of Kakashi’s ANBU mask. They are not often at odds with each other, not anymore. But Gai’s leg, hip, and spine are on _fire_ , and he grips the arms of the wheelchair instead of pushing Kakashi away.

“I am well enough for this,” he insists, forcing himself to believe it. Perhaps if he speaks with enough conviction, he can _will_ the pain away. “There was no need to stop on my account.”

Even without the sharingan, Kakashi is perceptive. That cursed eye showed him a red world somewhere between reality and delusion, but it did not teach him to _see_. He learned that on his own, watching and waiting like the Hatake Clan wolves. Still, Kakashi’s certainly not up to par with the Hyūgas, but that doesn’t matter. Gai realises he’s in a room full of people who can see through his bullshit and tries not to despair.

 _Don’t look at me_.

Embarrassment rises up his throat like bile. Gai is no stranger to pain (to agony, to torture, to death). Opening the Eighth Gate boiled him alive. It was unlike anything he has ever and ever will feel again – but it was brief; there was an end. Some days, his worst days, he would rather burn again than this – this fluctuating, unceasing pain. Every day is different; most are bad, some are better, but all are underlined by an unwavering thrum of pain. About a year now he has lived with it (survived, perhaps, but not coped; he wouldn’t call it coping), and in a way he cannot put into words or hope to explain, he is as scornful of it as he is protective. His pain belongs to him. He hates it, he truly does, but it’s the result of his actions, his experience, and his to bear. He can hardly remember a time without pain: can hardly remember who he was before it.

“Well, it was about time for more tea, anyway,” Kakashi says, his voice lifting up to the far side of the room. There’s a _clink_ of porcelain against wood – once, twice, three times – and then, “Ah, thank you Shizune.”

Gai stares at the corner of the desk. Shizune sets another cup there and then returns to her seat. The tea is dark and wafting steam. He recognises it as one of the fruits blends that Kakashi stocks in the office. The Administration team don’t drink it, nor do Kakashi’s personal team. Just Gai. He takes the cup and smells blueberries and blackcurrants. The porcelain warms his hands until they’re almost blistering, but he doesn’t mind. He’d like to press the mug up against his back to ease the pain, but he only considers it half-heartedly.

The Hyūgas are still speaking amongst themselves. Gai risks a glance at his husband-of-five-months and receives an instinctual smile in return. His chest flutters and then tightens as Kakashi’s expression flattens into neutrality. He will never tire from making Kakashi happy – but he’s doing a terrible job at it now. Gai steels himself against the inevitable pity and rests his hand on Kakashi’s leg. He reminds himself that he is a friend, a war hero, and an advisor, but most importantly he’s a _husband_ – he’s resurrected, he went up in flames and wouldn’t die.

“I’m listening. I’m sorry I let my mind wander.”

“It’s fine, let it wander,” Kakashi replies, crow’s feet wrinkling around his eyes. He’s twice as easy to read now that his forehead-protector isn’t slanted over his face. He hasn’t learned to compensate for it yet, which delights Gai beyond belief. “In fact – I have a treat for you when we get home.”

Gai’s stomach flips, but his pain-addled brain takes a moment to catch up. He squeezes Kakashi’s thigh, a reprimand for what cannot _surely_ be a comment indicative of _indecency_ – not in the office, not in the presence of officials from the Hyūga Clan.

“We – are in a meeting.”

Kakashi’s eyes are bright despite the dog-tired shadows beneath them. In comparison to the ever-immaculate Hyūgas, he looks like a dog’s chew-toy. Gai loves him dearly (be it covered in blood or sweat or all manner of things), but that doesn’t explain why other parts of him do.

“I know,” Kakashi whispers, leaning closer. His hair tickles the side of Gai’s face. “Otherwise I’d give it you to here.”

Gai’s mind doesn’t so much as wander as it does _careen_ off the edge of a cliff. He hopes the Hyūgas are looking _anywhere_ else, but he doesn’t dare glance over to check.

“We shouldn’t discuss –”

“It’s fine, I threw up a genjutsu.”

Gai presses his lips together, risking that glance. If the two Hyūgas have any idea what’s transpiring across the desk, then they seem too deep in conversation to comment on it. “You are almost unmatched in combat, Rival, and I will be the first to say so, but the Hyūga –”

“– wouldn’t pry into _their Hokage’s_ business now, would they?”

The mug that Kakashi raises to his mouth reads ‘I DO WHAT I WANT’. Gai wants to laugh, he really, _really_ wants to, but sudden movements and damaged nerves aren’t a happily married couple like he and Kakashi are. He settles for sucking in his bottom lip and fighting back the laughter until tears gather in his eyes.

“I cannot be bribed, Rival,” he insists, although he really, _really_ can.

“Are you sure?” Kakashi drawls, looking smug. In one unfaltering movement, he feeds his hand under the arm of the wheelchair and slips it up under Gai’s shirt. For the briefest of seconds, Gai is _convinced_ he’s about to initiate something untold, but then his hand reaches Gai’s lower back and it’s – hot, unnaturally so. Kakashi presses down firmly, his palm spanning the width of Gai’s spine and then some. His chakra, usually the temperamental lightning snapping across a sky, is calm and warm as it seeps in through Gai’s skin, and Gai’s sigh of relief is a little too loud.

“I… could be convinced.”

Kakashi smiles. “Relax,” he says, rubbing his thumb in little circles. Gai’s nerves _sing_. “I’m sorry this meeting is dragging on for so long.”

Gai’s leg is still turning itself inside out, but his spine is melting into goop and it’s bliss. “I’m happy to be here,” he says – and it’s true. He’d be happier if he wasn’t in pain, but if _Lord Sixth himself_ doesn’t mind being a personal hot water bottle for a little while, then who is Gai to complain?

“I’m happy you’re here, too. Is this helping?”

“Yes. How long can –”

“Oh, I’m sure I can manage until we wrap this up.”

Gai squeezes Kakashi’s thigh again, this time in gratitude. Kakashi says nothing further, but when he drops the genjutsu on the Hyūgas, he doesn’t drop his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [badthingshappenbingo](https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/) over at tumblr. Prompt was "chronic pain".
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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